Brooklyn Travels Pt. 2

As previously mentioned, Mike is on the PUP list. His walking is limited to to the kitchen, bathroom, urban garden, and the occasional appointment. This morning, however, he did have the occasional appointment. He went to the glorified back-popper (Chiropractor).

Fortunately for me that meant a given walk with my handsome fiancé. Unfortunately for me that meant that I would have to go to Cobble Hill and Carroll Gardens...again. In case you were unaware, that is work territory. That land mass is all too familiar for me. I know every crack, rat carcass, and stroller store in the area. But hey, a walk is a walk. Just like 'it is what it is'. Just like 'a fork is a fork'. And so on....

While Mike was getting his back popped, I dodged pigeons, small children, women with armpit hair, and the occasional v-word cleaner at the park on Carroll street. This park is nice on a weekday afternoon. Typically it only contains nannies and a few children. On a Saturday - forget about it. You would find more relaxation at the bottom of a blender (turned on). So I called dad and learned about Chrysler and their factories and how hot car parts get when forced to bend. Truly fascinating, really. I did intend on reading a Mark Twain novel - but the aforementioned park ruiners trampled pitifully on that plan. Fail.

Once Mike finished we went home. The back popper ordered him to sit on the sofa for the rest of the day so my dream of an extended walk with the dude was out of the question. So we watched 'Wilfrid' instead. Side note: I am an odd duck. I get it. But this show is almost a smidge too outside of the box for me. Almost. We watched on. After about five episodes I got the itch to return to the sunshine and crowded streets of Brooklyn.

Pt. 2

Obviously my second walk was solo. It was me, my iPhone, the Velvet Underground, and the Specials.   The most impressionable perk of listening to music while walking Brooklyn is the simple fact that I can completely ignore or tune out my environment. I can actually choose to drown out a ridiculous conversation held by the token people with the pungent voices. The thought of the social drowning excites me. And excited I was as I walked into..... drum roll.....

Fort Greene!

I made it! I actually froggered across Flatbush and into the unknown! Oddly enough - the dude and I live obnoxiously close to this undiscovered territory of awesomeness. Yet - we have only ventured over there once. And that was nearly two years ago. This expedition made me feel like that flying pioneer of a woman - Amelia Earhart. I was hovering over new land and taking it all in with a form of spectacle on my face (she had goggles and I had shades). But then I realized I didn't know where the hell I was going. And I did not want to turn into Amelia Earhart and disappear - so I decided to turn around and walk into hell (the Atlantic Terminal). The trip to Fort Greene was short. But it was interesting. I mentally noted a few restaurants and shops.

Background on the Atlantic Terminal: Lots of public transportation funnels into this one area. It is sort of like Brooklyn's version of Penn Station. On top of that, there is a Target, DSW, McDonalds, and random assortment of other outlets for shopping addicts and loiterers. The terminal attracts lots of people and too much hustle and bustle for my threshold of social interaction. It is like swimming in a sea of shit. Oh, to make matters worse - the Barclay's Stadium (Brooklyn Nets) will be across the street soon. So seriously - it will be Brooklyn's version of Penn Station. Busy. Awful. Annoying. And another basketful of dreadful and unflattering adjectives.

So Anyway - I went into the terminal to brave Target. I really wanted a picture album. As I mentioned in yesterday's travels - this is big on my to-do list. It ranks right up there with bathing and eating. Very important. So I swam through excrement and snatched up two photo albums. Bam. Mission accomplished, motherCENSOR.

I am not going to downplay this expedition, I barely survived. But I did and my pulse is still relatively steady. After all of the terminal nonsense, I trotted toward the humble home. And now I sit at home on a seat that contains my butt print. As it turns out, Mike is watching some shouldn't have been made sequel of the Fast and the Furious. I have a suspicious feeling that I may be able to guilt Mike into a French movie after being forced to listen to car accidents and abhorrent acting.

Hey ESPN

Erin Andrews....gone. Michelle Beadle...gone.

Hire me. 

love,

Sarah

Brooklyn Travels Pt. 1

So much for getting a photo album and avoiding familiar territory. I stomped all over the exact area I set out to avoid.

In all fairness, I had a Fort Greene escapade planned until I got into a verbal cellular communication exchange with my mother. Instead of talking to mom wirelessly and playing Frogger on Flatbush - I took a right and went the Gowanas route.

My first real stop was Lowes. I had to circle Carroll Gardens twice to get there because there was a flock of degenerates hanging out by the bus stop/Smith 9th train stop. When I see a flock - I take a turn. Unfortunately I saw many flocks and ultimately circled my old work habitat like a dart board.

When I finally decided to head back to Lowes - there was one final flock of degenerates that I had to bust through to get to my handy destination. To throw them off in case they considered assaulting me - I started speaking french. Translation: I said 'bonjour' and 'au revoir' several times. It gave me comfort. But come to think of it - a french-speaking person may have taken that nonsense as a conversation starter. I must work on my survival skills.

This Lowe's was pretty obnoxious. I had to kill a few minutes so I pretended to check out doorknobs. After about 40 minutes of pretending to be a carpenter (like Jesus), Mike came to meet me.

This is what we left with....

Bricks and flower pots.

Due to Mike's sore back an inability to serve as a mobile and physically-able individual - we went back home so he could rest. After about 5 minutes of unnecessarily eating combos and trying to decode a letter from my shitty insurance company, I went back out for part 2 of my walk.

PT. 2

Again, I did not go to Ft. Greene. Instead I went toward Brooklyn Heights. My first stop was Paper Source. I am quite determined to get a photo album. But alas, these cold-hearted capitalists are charging $40 for a piece o' crap photo album (I am going to guess this album was of Irish decent). It was not laced in gold. It did not have silver studs. It was just a regular, piece of ordinary photo album. After shooting the worker hovering my the stamps and unsatisfied look - I took leave and marched toward the Brooklyn Heights area.

When I got passed the downtown nightmare, I looked up and started to admire some buildings. Let me show you some pictures. Oh, by the way, the Sarah creep meter goes to +12 when I take a photo solo. I feel creepy/slimy. Self-conscious? Absolutely.

After using my better judgement and not taking a picture of the office of my lady Dr. - I settled on taking a picture of a house that I am 100% (or as reality stars say 110%) positive that it is haunted. If I lived there. I would wear black all of the time and speak like an exaggerated Ebenezer Scrooge. I would also write murder mysteries that would eternally knock James Patterson off of the bestseller list. What a mediocre piece of crap he is. I bet he doesn't live in a cool place like this. I bet he doesn't have real ghosts for inspiration.

Moving on.

After I got this far into BK Heights - I decided to go to the Promenade. Typically this is a packed spot filled with annoying people - but it was 92 degrees and I took a risk on it being empty. On my way there I saw the above building. I briefly fantasized about pole dancing on the columns. Then I visualized myself falling and forever tarnished my own image of myself pole dancing. Crash and burn.

When I finally made it to the Promenade - I took this picture. I am making my concentration face. Side note: I am not unhappy. I just have one of those faces that is ultimately unpleasant. That behind me is Manhattan. Below me was the BQE.

I took another picture of myself because I was unsatisfied with that one above. That whole wrinkled forehead nonsense gets on my nerves. So I cut my forehead off. If this was framed - we would call it the 'Vacant Thoughts Sarah.' But no one should ever frame this nonsense.

After I sat and stared for a few minutes, I headed to one of my favorite stores - The Garden of Eden. Thank God I went because I found this...

This is my favorite food. Rugelach. Sugar Free!! I must remember to compose a thank you note. This crap just made my day. Of course tomorrow will be ruined because I will have a sugar-free stomachache. 

After I purchased some overpriced food - I headed home. But look what I stumbled across on my way...

I really wanted to moon this building. But again, it was 92 degrees and I am pretty sure my shorts were stuck to my butt. The whole process would have been botched and virtually ineffective.

Next time.

What's wrong with this diagnosis?

Check out this video!  What is wrong with the diagnosis?

Video Message Before Walk (beware of ramble)

Exploring Compartmentalized Brooklyn

I was given two functional legs for a conspicuous reason. Yes. My rationale for life is to do this. I kid. I kiiiiiiiiiiiiiid!

Obviously legs provide each able-bodied individual with physical abilities that prove to be fruitful and beneficial to the self. I personally love the fact that my legs give me the option of gliding like a deer  .  But imagine this supple movement in walking style (I don’t run). In my mind, I am as elegant as a deer.

Honestly, I love to walk. I love to walk aimlessly while simultaneously exploring my living environment (Brooklyn…and sometimes Manhattan). Each year I find a new neighborhood to include in my cognitive map. 

NYC is a compartmentalized place. There are pockets of culture everywhere. Thus, it is easy to get stuck with your own culture. For the past 3 years, I have worked and lived in the same neighborhood There were times when I went several weeks without leaving a 3-mile radius. I don’t like that. I come from a homogeneous place. If Indiana University did not teach me anything else – they taught me to embrace differences and diversity. Instilled in me during that three years of weirdness was the ability to explore, learn, and embrace. It is imperative that I do not neglect to do that.  When I get comfortable in a routine – I neglect.

This summer I would like to explore the following neighborhoods: Fort Greene, Williamsburg, Crown Heights, DUMBO, Greenpoint, and Red Hook.

Previous compartmentalized areas explored:

Boerum Hill

Cobble Hill

Carroll Gardens

Downtown Brooklyn

Brooklyn Heights

Park Slope

Windsor Terrace

Sunset Park

Borough Park

Bay Ridge

Coney Island

Bensonhurst

I fully intend on writing about my walking adventures. Prepare yourself.

The NBA Draft

I watched a lot of the NBA draft. This is what I thought of it...

1. Boring. Oh. My. Goodness.

2. Stern got booed each time he approached the podium to make a selection announcement. As the boos kept coming, I watched him get more smug. Oh my goodness, he seems like an intolerable man. He seems like a Bloomberg type. But with a little sexual misconduct lurking about. Or he may wear women's clothing. I am not sure. But! There is something off about him.

3. I sort of think that only 20 picks matter. Shouldn't the draft be for 20 picks? They could have try outs for the rest.

4. The Pacers snagged a white guy. I see they are still scared to death from the brawl/strip club drama aftermath.

5. Did anyone else notice that this year, just like last year, the Celtics picked up two placers from the same school? Last year it was Purdue. This year it is Syracuse.

Even if I tried, I could not think of 60 things to say about this draft. You would have to be full of the hottest of all the hot air to be able to opine about most of what went on last night.

Boring.

Smug.

Bad clothing.

Scared Simons (Pacer people).

....and one angry bird.

Bitter Sweet Time Of Year

I love football. I love basketball. I love all leagues involving those two sports. When nothing else is on from September - June, it is easy to find either a football or a basketball game to fill a boredom void.

With that being said, I hate this time of year. It is a shame though. I am a teacher. I should rejoice when July becomes the bold month title on my calendar. After all, it is summer vacation. But I don't. Baseball bores me after the first 45 games. Golf puts me in a coma after the 3rd hour. And racing. Oh, please. I am the sole hoosier that lacks love for that gas guzzling nonsense.

The lack of football and the lack of basketball makes me sad. And unfortunately it balances out my high that comes from summer vacation. Thus the inverse occurs from September - June. I am happy for sports. I am sad for the school year.

Will I ever be one of those creepy happy a-holes?

Only if ESPN hires me. Or Jim Nantz. God, I would love to be his assistant.

Until then, I will just be a creepy blah a-hole.

Polar Couple

Before

After

Oh, yeah - and the Yankees lost that game. 

close 2 deal w. 12

Yeah, The title of this post is written in shorthand to mimic and/or mock Jim Irsay, the ever-so-strange owner of the Indianapolis Colts.

Apparently they are close to a deal. You can read about it by clicking the link below.

Irsay says deal with Luck is close, despite - 06-23-2012